"Although culture devalues mothers, God and your children don't."
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The following was found hanging in a OB/Gyn doctor's office:

       		"The Meanest Mother"

	I had the meanest mother in the whole world.  While other 
kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.  
When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich.  
As you can guess my supper was different from the other kids' too

	But at least I wasn't alone in my sufferings.  My sister and 
two brothers had the same mean mother as I did.

	My mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times.  
You'd think we were on a chain gang.  She had to know who our friends 
were and what we were doing. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an 
hour that we be gone an hour or less--not one hour and one minute.  
I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us--not once, 
but each time we did as we pleased.  Can you imagine someone actually 
hitting a child just because he disobeyed?  Now you can begin to see 
how mean she really was.

	The worst is yet to come.  We had to be in bed by nine each 
night and up early the next morning.  We couldn't sleep till noon 
like our friends, so while they slept my mother actually had the 
nerve to break the child labor law.  She made us work.  We had to 
wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook, and all sorts of cruel things. 
I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to
us.

	She always insisted upon our telling the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth, even if it killed us--and it nearly
did.

	By the time we were teenagers she was much wiser, and our
life became even more unbearable.   None of this tooting the horn of
a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making
our dates and friends come to the door to get us.  I forgot to
mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13,
my old-fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 15
and 18. Fifteen, that is, if you dared only to go to school
functions and that was maybe twice a year.

        My mother was a complete failure as a mother.  None of us has
ever been arrested, divorced, or beaten his mate.  Each of my
brothers served his time in the service of his country. And whom do
we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out?  You're right,
our mean mother.  Look at all the things we missed.  We never got to
march in a protest parade, nor take part in a riot, burn draft cards,
and a million and one things our friends did.  She forced us to grow
up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.

	Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three 
children.  I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when 
my children call me mean.  Because, you see, I thank God.  He gave 
me the meanest mother in the world.
				"Voice of Happiness"
(Submitted by Cheryl)